


The Betting Game

by Jayie_The_Hufflepuff



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cute fluffy fic, It's about Cecilos but Cecil and Carlos don't show up a lot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayie_The_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Jayie_The_Hufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night Vale was a small town. Well, actually, no one was quite sure how large Night Vale was. One minute it seemed small, and the next there seemed to be people dying left and right without it having much of an impact on the town's population. Regardless, Night Vale was a small town in spirit. And like all small towns, everybody knew everybody, and news traveled fast.</p><p>And like all small towns, people love to get into their neighbors' business.</p><p>In which there are wagers and bets, and in which Night Vale observes Cecil and Carlos find their way from a press conference to the hood of a car under the lights above the Arby's. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Betting Game

     Night Vale was a small town. Well, actually, no one was quite sure how large Night Vale was. One minute it seemed small, and the next there seemed to be people dying left and right without it having much of an impact on the town's population. Regardless, Night Vale was a small town in spirit. And like all small towns, everybody knew everybody, and news traveled fast.

     It was a normal night at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. A couple of the regulars were sitting at a table together, grouped around a radio resting in the windowpane. The Voice of Night Vale hummed out of the old, rickety thing, clear as a bell despite the radio's age. Conversation had mostly stopped as the citizens of Night Vale listened to their favorite radio host.

     Old Woman Josie sat in the booth right next to the radio, Telly the barber seated next to her. Two angels stood behind the booth, silently behind her. They were huge, looming over everyone in the room, even their waiter. Everyone did their best to ignore the angels and their existence. This was especially hard for Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed, Larry Leroy, and Teddy Williams, who were seated across from Old Woman Josie and therefore directly across from the angels.

     "We're a few short tonight," Telly remarked during a pause in the broadcast.

     "Oh, a few people are running late is all," Old Woman Josie explained. "John Peters, you know, the farmer, he said he just had to check on his crop of imaginary corn before he could get here. He says it's looking to be a beautiful harvest next year." There were some murmurs of appreciation through the diner. Everyone was a fan of John Peter's imaginary corn.

     There was the jingle of a bell as the door to the diner swung open. John Peters, you know, the farmer, pushed his way through the doors and made his way to their table without bothering to wait to be seated. "Turn it up," he said by way of greeting.

     Old Woman Josie obliged, turning up the volume dial a few notches, Cecil's voice growing louder. “Eager to hear the weather report, John?” she asked. As a farmer, it would make sense if he wanted to hear what the weather was going to be. Not that Cecil's show actually reported on any weather, but the thought was still there.

     John Peters shook his head, sliding into the booth beside Telly and Old Woman Josie. “I want to hear more about this new scientist.”

     Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed chuckled. “Is it just me, or did Cecil seem pretty interested in him?”

     “I don't blame him,” Telly said with a shrug. “He seemed like an interesting guy.”

     “No, but I mean more than usual,” Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed prompted. “Like, he seemed kinda obsessed with this guy. Did you hear him going on about his hair?”

     “To be fair, he does have some rather wonderful hair,” Old Woman Josie said.

     Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed started to respond, but he was shushed as Cecil spoke again. “ _That new scientist, we now know is named Carlos, called a town meeting._ ” The general chatter in the diner fell away, letting Cecil's voice take center-stage. Everyone was listening attentively. “ _He has a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is_ perfect _, and we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure. Old Woman Josie brought corn muffins, which were decent, but lacked salt._ ”

     “If anyone wants any of those corn muffins, I have plenty left over,” Old Woman Josie informed everyone in the diner. “The angels helped me bake plenty of them.” Everyone shushed her as Cecil continued talking.

     “ _Carlos told us that we are by far the most scientifically interesting community in the US, and he had come to study just what was going on around here. He grinned, and everything about him was_ perfect _, and I fell in love instantly._ ”

     There were a few whistles and general murmurs of approval. Cecil was well-liked in the town, so anything that made him happy was generally approved of. “It's about time young Cecil found someone to be happy with,” Old Woman Josie commented with appreciation. “He's a good young man. He deserves someone nice.”

     Larry Leroy nodded slowly, as though mulling the idea over. “That's a fine idea,” he said finally. “A fine idea. This scientist will be good for Cecil.”

     From a table a few feet away, Steve Carlsberg added cheerfully, “I think it'd be great for Cecil to start dating again. He seems a bit lonely.” As was the norm in Night Vale, the other people at the diner ignored him completely, leaving him to sit alone at his table as they continued their discussion.

     “Did you see that scientist at the meeting today?” Telly asked eagerly. “He kept looking over at Cecil while he was talking. Kept sneaking little glances.”

     “That's a good sign,” Steve Carlsberg pointed out. He frowned. "Or maybe this scientist was just trying to find the best person to get information from." This seemed to upset him. Steve Carlsberg leaned his chin on his hand, a new conspiracy theory of some sort or other forming in his mind.

     Ignoring him, Teddy Williams continued, “Yeah, that Carlos guy is definitely into Cecil. I bet they'll be going out before the summer's out.”

     “I'm not so sure,” Janice Rio, at the table to their left, commented. “That Carlos guy looked pretty quiet to me. I doubt he'll get pulled into a relationship that fast.”

     “Are you kidding me?” Telly countered. “Cecil's not exactly subtle. You heard him gushing over Carlos's perfect hair. No one could ignore that hint.”

     As the various people in the diner bickered, Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed's gaze suddenly grew sharp with interest. “Hold on.” He held up a hand, drawing the attention of those around him. “How about we make things interesting?”

     Telly's eyebrows raised. “You mean money?”

     “Exactly. Let's turn this into a wager.” By now, the whole diner had fallen silent. Even the waiters had paused, their clicking and chattering and spine-chilling screeches fading away as they listened to what Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed had to say. “Everyone bets on how long they think it'll take Cecil and Carlos to get together. We'll base it on months. Whoever's guess comes the closest wins the bet.”

     An excited chatter arose after he finished speaking. People were turning to each other at their tables, whispering excitedly. “You're on,” Telly told the coach with a grin.

     People began calling out their bets left and right, some of them communicated through various chirps and hoots. “I say two months,” Teddy Williams declared. “We all know what a forward guy Cecil is. This won't take long at all.” Telly agreed with him, and laid down the same bet.

     “Six months,” Janice Rio countered. “It'll take Carlos a while to warm up to him.”

     Larry Leroy bet four months, as did John Peters, you know, the farmer? Some said one month, some went as far as eight or nine months. When it was Old Woman Josie's turn to bet, she leaned back against the booth, clasping her hands together and telling everyone serenely, “Erika told me to bet on one year. It'll take the poor dears a while to get themselves sorted out, I'm afraid.”

     No one dared to ask who Erika was, especially when one of the angels fluffed its wings out sharply, and the other turned to glare at the crowd with cold, eternal eyes.

ONE MONTH LATER

     The first month of the bet was nearly over, and some of the participants were starting to get nervous. Telly the barber and Teddy Williams had both bet on two months. Their deadline was edging closer, surely but truly.

     Telly was the first to take action. “I'm going to cut Carlos's hair,” he announced one night at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner.

     Teddy Williams choked on his carnivorous steak, and Old Woman Josie and Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed stared at him in horror from across the table. “You're _what_?” Teddy sputtered as he stabbed his fork into the wriggling steak, which was growling and snarling in protest. “Are you crazy?”

     The barber waved off the accusation with a dismissive hand. “Think about it. Cecil keeps going on about that hair. That perfect, beautiful hair. He's practically in love with it. For all we know, he _could_ be in love with it. We have to make sure. After all, the bet is about Cecil and Carlos, not Cecil and Carlos's hair.”

     Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed and Teddy Williams glared at him dubiously over the table. “Do you have a death wish or something?” Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed demanded. “You know how much Cecil loves that hair, and he's not the only one. You're going to get yourself killed.”

     Telly scoffed. “I won't cut his hair that bad,” he protested. “Give me some credit.”

     As Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed just shook his head, Teddy began slowly, “Let me get this straight. You're cutting Carlos's hair to make sure Cecil is really in love with him and not his hair?”

     “Uh-huh.”

     “Come off it,” Nazr al-Mujaheed said with a sudden grin. “You're just trying to push Cecil into saying something to Carlos.”

     Telly hesitated, then shrugged, squaring his shoulders defiantly. “So what if I am?” he asked. “It's not against the rules.”

     With that, he stood, walking away from the booth and out of the diner. As the door swung shut behind him and the bell _dinged_ cheerfully behind him, Old Woman Josie stared after him with a look of mild interest. “Well, he's going to die,” she commented lightly. There were general murmurs of agreement from the other customers.

     No one felt much surprise when Telly was found months later, wandering the desert muttering madly to himself and giving haircuts to cacti. By then, he'd lost the bet anyway, so no one took much notice.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

     Telly and Teddy had very decidedly lost the bet at this point, as had many of the people who had bet low. By now, the bet was starting to spread through town. Every day, more and more people seemed to know about it. Just the other day, Robert Singh had passed Teddy Williams on the street and commented about wanting to put in a bet of his own, and Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed had seen Michael Sandero arguing with his second head during a break in practice about whether they should bet on a sooner or later date. Even Steve Carlsberg had gotten someone's attention long enough to pitch in. “I dunno about this Carlos fellow, but he seems to make Cecil happy, so I'm all for it,” he told the reluctant listener. He bet eight months.

     Now, even Carlos's scientists were in on the bet. They'd been at Big Rico's one night and had overheard Leanne Hart grumbling about betting too low. They all seemed to be a more friendly, eager bunch than Carlos himself, and threw themselves whole-heartedly into the bet. As a whole, they bet on 1 ½ years. “You should see Carlos blush every time Cecil mentions his name,” one of them confided in the entranced audience at Big Rico's. “There's no way he'll make the first move.”

     Now that the bet was taking off, a jumbled sort of idea of what the rules were began to come together. As the one who had started the bet, Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed was in charge of keeping track of everyone's bets, and he was the one to come to if you had a new bet to place. Anyone who wanted to was allowed to participate, except for a few exceptions. Without anyone having to say it, they all knew that radio interns were barred from the bet. The mortality rate of a radio intern was almost too fast to keep up with, so the likelihood that any of them would survive long enough to see their date be the winning one was very slim. Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed declared that he had no intention of paying ghosts the winnings, and everyone else agreed.

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

     Nearly half the original betters were now out of the running. The competition was starting to heat up. Those who had been put out of the running were now starting to back some of the lucky few left, viciously hounding against the opposition even though they no longer had any stakes in the bet.

     Supporters of Carlos's scientists began some vicious verbal attacks on the waiters, who had bet on nine months. They began tipping with drops of blood and little slugs crawling across the table, which of course, is the very height of rudeness. The waiters retaliated by serving carnivorous steak that was still raw enough to attack, and salads with deadly nightshade leaves and disappearing lettuce. Several of those supporters were never heard from again.

     During all of this time of squabble, no one dared to slander Old Woman Josie, now that the angels had become her constant companions. Whenever someone tried to tell her that it wasn't fair that she had angel guidance to help her with the bet, or that she was trying to unfairly push Cecil or Carlos into the relationship, one of the angels would turn to them with those unblinking, eternal eyes and let out a low keening noise in its throat that chilled the hearts of everyone who heard it. At that point, everyone turned away, trying to slow their frantic, panicked hearts as they reminded themselves that angel weren't real.

     A couple of stragglers had finally been pulled into the bet. There were dates ranging from the current time, eight months, stretching as far as two or three years in the future. Some of the betters had, unfortunately, been killed or maimed or mauled in excessive ways since the betting had began. There had been some initial confusion on whether they'd still be required to pay up when the time came. Finally, one of the Sheriff's Secret Police had mentioned he'd be able to pull from their bank account even after death and/or mauling, so the matter was settled very nicely.

     Even Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed, who knew how competitions like this could pull everyone in, was surprised by some of the new participants. One night when he returned to his town house in Old Town Night Vale, he saw a note taped to the side of his boxy old TV. In a clear, pristine handwriting, it said, 

“ _Dear Nazr al-Mujaheed,_

 _It's me, the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home. I've been watching – well, I'm always watching – and I've decided to join the wager. I want to place a bet that Cecil and Carlos will get together one year from the day they met. Oh, also, I think you watch too many sports channels. You think about nothing but sports all day. So I broke into your television changed your channels around. I think you should watch more police dramas. I think you would like them._ ”

     There was some debate the next day at the diner about whether it was fair to let the Faceless Old Woman join the competition, since it wasn't entirely clear whether she was omniscient or not. In the end, however, they decided why not, and allowed her bet to be entered. Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed found himself quite enjoying Castle, and Law and Order.

TEN MONTHS LATER

     “You should have seen Carlos during the broadcast today,” one of the scientists told the listeners at Big Rico's. “When Cecil mentioned the beautiful guy from Luftnarp, Carlos got all huffy and shut himself up in his office, muttering something about not being able to concentrate with the radio playing.”

     “He was totally jealous,” one of the younger ones added with a grin of relish.

     Old Woman Josie nodded sagely. “Not long now,” she commented, leaving everyone to wonder just how sure she was about her bet, and whether using the angels really was cheating. But no one said anything. No one dared.

ONE YEAR LATER

     One year after the bet began, one year after Carlos arrived, John Peters, you know, the farmer, arrived late again after stopping to check on his crop of imaginary corn. He didn't bother to speak as he pushed through the doors, the _dinging_ of the bell the only sound in the room besides the radio. Everyone was crowded around the contraption in dead silence, eyes and ears glued to it.

     Today should've been just like any other day. However, it was exactly one year since the start. One year since Carlos had arrived. It was the day that both Old Woman Josie and the Faceless Old Woman had bet on, and since they were the most confident contenders, everyone was eager to see whether they were right.

     Teddy Williams hadn't been seen in the Moonlite All-Nite Diner in some months. He'd been keeping a 24-hour watch on the pin retrieval area of lane five, muttering inanely about the oncoming war and preparations. Telly the Barber was also absent, still wandering out in the desert somewhere, hands and fingers bloodied and bandaged from trimming the various cacti. The only time anyone thought to mention him was when they commented on the handsomely-trimmed cacti now surrounding the town, and what a pleasant addition it was to Night Vale, now that their cacti were so much better than the ugly, bedraggled things that surrounded Desert Bluffs.

     The only ones left from the original betters were Larry Leroy, munching on a grilled screamfish, Coach Nazr al-Mujaheed, sitting closest to the radio, John Peters, you know, the farmer, and Old Woman Josie, leaning back against the booth with both eyes closed, seemingly the only person in the diner completely at ease.

     There was a brief moment of panic when Cecil announced that Carlos had been killed by the inhabitants of the tiny underground city. Those who knew Carlos well mourned his loss, and Cecil's loss as well. Those who didn't wondered what would happen to the bet now one of the couple was dead. Would it count if Cecil dated his ghost? Maybe his re-animated corpse that stared blankly at people and let out a low groan? No one was quite sure.

     Needless to say, there was an overall feeling of relief when Cecil declared that Carlos was not dead after all, that in fact, he was going to be okay. " _...that Carlos will be, in fact,_ okay _. He's okay. Never before in my career as a broadcaster have I gone through such a roller coaster of emotion and fear! To think, that I had lost that most precious thing to me, the presence of Carlos in my life, and then to have it brought back, so that I could appreciate it all the more.  
Oh, Carlos! All the words I would never have said to you!_ "

     One of Old Woman Josie's supporters gave a wide, triumphant grin. "He's gonna say them now! Bet you anything, he's going to say them now." No one argued with her. A couple of people grumbled to themselves, and Carlos's scientists looked away irritably.

     People were already starting to get their money out by the time Cecil said in surprise, " _Oh! Message on my phone…Carlos wants to see me._ There were sounds of surprise and interest. People leaned in closer, trying to catch Cecil's every word. " _He says to meet him at the Arby’s parking lot. Um… I am not sure what scientific exploration now needs the services of my radio audience, but I will dutifully go, dutifully meet him._ "

     As Cecil's voice fell silent and the weather began to play, an excited chatter rose in the diner. Now that things were moving more quickly, the animosity between sides was being forgotten in the face of seeing these two people become happy together.

     "So is Carlos going to make the first move now?" Robert Singh asked with confusion. "Is that what's happening?"

     "I doubt it," one of the scientists replied. "He's too shy."

     "Yeah, but he nearly just died, man," someone else countered from the back of the diner. "Nothing like a near-death experience to make you sort out your priorities." Old Woman Josie said nothing, leaning back primly against the booth, eyes still closed, angels still standing behind the booth.

     Everyone shut up immediately as the weather ended and Cecil's voice returned. He sounded slightly star-struck as he said, " _I arrived at the parking lot to find Carlos perched on the trunk of his car in flannel and jeans, his perfect hair mussed, his perfect teeth hidden. 'What is it?' I said. 'Wha— what danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?'_ " The entire diner held their breath as one.

     " _He shook his head. 'Nothing,' he said. 'After everything that happened…I just wanted to see you.'_ "

     The diner erupted into cheering and hoots and whistles of joy. In the excitement of the moment, everyone seemed to have forgotten the bet. Their Cecil had found love, and was happy, and that was all that they could comprehend. There was a lot of hugging strangers and whooping just general celebration.

     Old Woman Jose let out a contented sigh. "Those are such nice boys," she commented to Erika, who blinked warmly back at her. "Such very nice boys. Good for them." The Faceless Old Woman let out a hum of agreement, although of course no one could hear her, or see her.

     Over the next few weeks, neither Carlos nor Cecil could understand why everyone seemed to be glaring at them and grumbling about why they couldn't have done this a little sooner or a little later. Nor did they understand why Old Woman Josie interrupted their fourth date to give them a basket of chocolates and sweets, giving them a secret wink before walking away, or why their houses were always spotless when they returned home, no matter how messy they had been when they had left.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Edited to better fit the recent episodes and what they've revealed about certain characters.
> 
> Ever since I started listening to WTNV, I've had this idea bouncing around in my head, so I finally decided to sit down and write it. Mostly, I just wanted to show people reacting to the stuff happening in Cecil's show, and how they support Cecil and Carlos from the get-go, before they're even together. I also wanted to show that yes, Cecil honey, everyone can hear you gushing over Carlos, it's not exactly a secret.


End file.
